


Geek Knight Versus the Black Dragon

by tari_roo



Series: Shep the Dragon [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Hurt John Sheppard, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tari_roo/pseuds/tari_roo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of Sir Rodney who went Dragon Hunting. Alternative title: Shep the Dragon has a bad day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Geek Knight Versus the Black Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Do you need to warn for crack? If so – crack ahead. But also some delicious h/c

The stable smelt like every stable in the world – like shit. But the overwhelming aromas of hay, feed, leather oil and warm sunshine overwhelmed the stink, and drowned it out and well, Rodney had to admit, stables were pretty nice places.

He tightened the cinch on Aggy’s stirrups, and she whuffled at him in complaint. “Sorry, old girl. Bit of a hurry.”

Aggy returned to her feed, placated for now, but Rodney knew he’d have a devil of a time getting her out of her stall, let alone on the road. He’d learnt to ride on Aggy, years and years ago, and now both his growth into adulthood and her swaying back meant she was no longer the terrifying monster of his six year old self. Now she was a beloved old friend.

McKay checked his saddle bags, all three of them and hoped he had everything, because there was no going back. No, not this time. Tying on the bags, Rodney turned for the weaponry. His sword, his father’s, old, battered and well used like everything in the McKay household sat in prominence on bale of hay. A bag of lance tips, blessed by the doddering old priest in the village. And then Rodney turned to his masterpiece, the damn reason for all of this – insanity.

Steam powered. Mobile. Metal. Like nothing no one had ever seen. A ‘true’ invention. Oh yes, he’d show them.

Unable to leave his sword, his oath forestalling any such sacrilege, Rodney tied the broadsword onto the saddle as well. And then tried to get Aggy to back up and out of the stall.

As expected, she refused to budge.

“Stupid, ruddy, great behemoth! Move, come on!”

Rodney tugged, pulled, pushed, strained and considered finding a carrot or apple, or something. But Aggy turned her nose up at the carrot and ate the apple before Rodney could even get her to turn. Cursing royally, because well, this was all Sam’s fault, Rodney grabbed Aggy’s reins and heaved. “Please come on! I’ve got... I beg you! Agatha!!”

Aggy moved, barely but it was enough to startle Rodney, who lost his grip in his fright, stumbled and fell, narrowly missing a pile of horse dung. Laying prone on the floor, his angry breath sending stray bits of hay and dust up into little spirals of motion, McKay tried to gather himself – and not threaten Aggy with the knackers.

As if stirred by Rodney’s traitorous thoughts alone, Aggy suddenly shifted and slowly her hooves moved backwards, out of the stall and Rodney had to roll out of her way, quickly. “Wha..? Oh thank the Maker, you sweet, beautiful...”

Standing, brushing himself off, Rodney’s praise died on his lips when he saw the true reason for Aggy’s compliance. Teyla. Sir Teyla Emmagen of Athos.

McKay opened his mouth to say ... something, but Teyla’s cool appraising gaze as she gently, and expertly turned Aggy jammed those words in his throat and all that came out was an indignant squeak, “I don’t need your help!”

Teyla turned, her blue and gold armour glinting in the sunshine peeking through the old wooden roof. “Come along, Rodney,” she said quietly, accent soft and exotic, “we have far to go before nightfall.” She took Aggy’s reins and led the old warhorse out into the yard.

Rodney stood in the stable, a mix of fury and shame raging through him, but it was tempered by such relief and ... delight, that as Teyla and Aggy were silhouetted in the doorway, he couldn’t but help smile. And run after her.

“I’m serious, Teyla, I don’t need your.... help.”

In the bright morning sunlight, the courtyard was warm, and homey, but there was no hiding the dilapidation of McKay Manor, its rundown appearance, and shabby decor a constant reminder of Rodney’s failures. But it wasn’t his childhood home’s appearance that made him pause.

“No, no, no ... no!”

Teyla was not alone. Sir Evan, Teyla’s second in the Veil Guard was lounging against the flanks of his Giant Elk, which bore bulging saddle bags and provisions. He tipped an insolent salute at Rodney, who scowled back. Near the dry fountain, no, on the dry fountain in the middle of the courtyard, Scholar Ronon was sprawled across the marble lip, paging through a heavy, dusty tome. Behind him, like a mountain in miniature, his steed slowly ate what remained of Mother’s roses. Trust Ronon to own a Battle Tortoise. The Tortoise’s shell was massive and made even more so by the piles of scrolls and books.

And finally, to make his humiliation and embarrassment complete, Carson and Radek were arguing near the kitchen doors while Jeannie plied them with food.

“No!” Rodney screamed and then blushed as everyone turned to look at him.

Going even more red, McKay growled, “Look, I get it. You’re worried and well... worried about me and want to help, but ... I am doing this ... on my own!” He gestured firmly at the three giant Mechanicals standing beside the stable as if to illustrate his point.

“Rodney,” Teyla began, her hands outstretched towards him, expression so damn understanding. But McKay would have nothing of it.

“No, Teyla. No. This is the worst quest ... party that ever tramped the hills of Equestria! The court painter! A scholar more proficient with knives than words. Two bumbling research mages. And me... the laughing stock of the Atlantean Court!”

McKay flapped his hands at her and forged ahead, ignoring her pursed expression of irritation, even though it was not a good idea to irritate Teyla. “I have to do this – my reputation, my .. everything rests on me doing this ... alone! Please.”

“Actually, not really,” Ronon’s deep voice rumbled, and with a lethal grace far more becoming of a knight than a scholar, Ronon slipped off the fountain and strode towards Rodney. “Princess Samantha’s challenge to you did not specify that you had to go alone, only that you were to use your devices to capture a...”

“Dragon! Great Galloping Gallants, Rodney. A Dragon! Have you lost your cotton-picking mind?” Carson yelled, waving a pastry at him. McKay inhaled to shout back but Evan interrupted smoothly with, “I’m here on the Queen’s orders. In fact most of us are, Rodney.”

That deflated Rodney completely and he slumped onto an upturned bucket, his armour rattling in concert. “The Queen? Queen Elizabeth? Is she determined to ruin me, throw me out of court?”

Teyla sank to her haunches, meeting him eye to eye, long copper hair tied back in a warrior’s que. It looked so much nicer lose and framing her face. “You have not made it easy for her to champion you, Rodney. Arguing with Kavanghan is one thing, but calling her General an idiot and undermining his authority, going behind his back and hers to divert resources to your devices is... “

“Stupid.”

“Idiotic.”

“Imbelic!”

Rodney shot the others all a glare but could not shake his head in disagreement. “But I am right, Teyla. Fighting the Asurans with magic doesn’t work. We have to find another way and my Mechanicals are the answer...”

“And Princess Samantha would almost agree with you, almost. But you, Rodney, you make it so unpalatable for her to admit it.” Teyla took his hands in hers and squeezed them tight, willing him to see her point, to see everyone’s.

Teyla was right. Everyone was. This was bigger than just him and his pride. Atlantis and the Realm of Equestria were at stake. “Rodney, you are a Knight of the Realm. Sworn to protect Atlantis. And while your prowess with the blade and staff have not ever commended you, your quick thinking and innovations have.”

Rodney winced at Teyla’s reminder that as a Knight, he failed at most knightly tasks. But as the last son of a long line of Knights of the Realm, Rodney had had no choice but to take his family’s place in the Service. Fortunately Queen Elizabeth was as far sighted as she was beautiful and had let him form an Experimental Artillery Division. A general ‘experimental’ weapons division. Radek and Carson, his fellow dreamers of things unknown and extraordinary were his sole colleagues. Everyone else in Atlantis and the outer lands put their trust in the tried and true strength of the Knights and the Battle Mages.

Even if Oberon and his Iron Soldiers had conquered Genia in a week. The Genii, old enemies, were strong, powerful fighters. And they had lost. Badly.

Rodney glared at Ronon, “I’m sure you aren’t here on anyone’s orders.”

 Ronon shook his head, his long hair shaking like a wave, “No. I am not. But you go in seek of a creature not seen in these lands for hundreds of years. I would see it.”

“Typical. Only you would go looking for a Dragon just for the hell of it,” Rodney muttered. Carson stomped over, face covered in crumbs. Damn, Rodney had missed Jeannie’s blueberry hotpockets. “Rodney, you prideful Fool, better a quest for knowledge than one based on stubborn pride. If you had not insulted the Princess...”

McKay exploded, standing up to meet Carson eyeball to eyeball, well aware his anger was mostly directed at himself, “She practically tore our designs to shred, Carson. Our designs. The ones we have been working on for years!”

“That still don’t work except every other Tuesday when the wind blows from the sea!” Carson was just as angry, and went red in the face, poking Rodney hard in the chest with the hotpocket, smearing blueberry juice all along Rodney’s armour.

“Only because you and Rat Brain over there can’t overcome the magical dissonance between the metal stress and the energy ratios of the steam pulley!” Rodney snarled, jabbing his finger at Carson in equal heat.

Very firmly, Teyla stepped between them and separate them, Ronon pulling Carson to one side. “Enough! Rodney, your mechanical ‘soldiers’ work sufficient to prove your point, yes?”

“Yes,” McKay muttered, “no thanks to Carson McFumblecharms.”

“Carson, you and Radek insisted on coming with Evan and I, so – please stop arguing and fighting or else you will be left behind.”

Teyla’s expression brooked no disagreement, so Carson meekly nodded. “Sorry, Sir Teyla. I apologise. Unforgiveable of me. Just worried, I assure you.”

“Worried, yes. Convinced we are not going to our doom, no,” Radek chirped in as he brought his and Carson’s miniature elephant closer. George, the elephant was not exactly miniature. Large enough to carry both Mages, his breed’s odd distinction came from the tiny ears and trunk. Miniature elephants gave Rodney the creeps. They looked like demented reflections of the true creatures.

“Fine, fine. You can all come,” Rodney yelled, as if his permission was required. “Let’s get this circus on the road.”

And circus it was. Because the Mechanicals, while working, were not up for a prolonged walk, just yet. Snail would be towing them on a weightless platform. Snail, Rodney’s first working Mechanical was both his pride and joy, and his continued embarrassment. A lot of people in Atlantis still called him Sir Snail, or Sir Slime, in memory of his dismal failure at the tourney last year. Riding Snail in the joust had seemed like a good idea – a good way to show the metal of his Mechanicals.

Yeah, the result of that disaster was best left unmentioned.

Snail though, whose inner coils and cogs allowed him to mimic the motion of a snail, had a revolving track of fitted joints pushing him forward. Fortunately, his pace far outstripped his smaller inspiration. And he was stronger than he looked.

Walking over to Snail, Rodney yelled over his shoulder, “Ronon, Sir Evan, please go get my canon in the stable. The open road calls.”

By the time they all hit the road, Teyla on her Western Tiger leading the way, the sun was high in the sky. Rodney took second spot, holding Snail’s control’s gingerly, watching with a careful eye the weightless platform and its precious cargo. Evan and Ronon rode side by side, the Tortoise easily keeping pace with the Elk. Carson and Radek brought up the rear, their elephant snuffling in a congested fashion. The pair were already arguing about something.

The nearest Way Point was about an hour away, but they needed to have a destination in mind before stepping through the Portal.

Reigning Aggy in, Rodney let Snail pass him, the Mechanicals floating by on the airy platform. Once alongside Ronon and Sir Evan, Rodney shot them both a look of remonstration and said formally, “I had thought to try the Wingsong Mountains. The traditional home of Dragons.”

Evan snorted and tried not to laugh. Ronon openly smiled and said, “Sure, Sir Rodney. We can go there if you wish to die.”

Rodney flushed, “Where-else do you suggest, Scholar?”

“There are surely plenty of Dragons in the Wingsong Mountains, McKay,” Sir Evan laughed, “The problem is they have a dim view of Dragon Hunters. And besides it’d take three portal trips at least.”

Ronon picked up a small book and opened it, “I have an idea, McKay. This is the record of a herbalist who travelled the world cataloguing regional plant species.”

Rodney stared at the massive man on the Tortoise. He wanted to sneer derisively but despite his apparent love of knowledge, Ronon was not one to sneer at. “So?” Rodney sighed.

“He noted that in the far North, notably near the Wingsong Mountains, the very common herb meldo-sweet cannot be found. At all.”

Eavesdropping no doubt, Carson called from behind, “Oh, Aye. That’s true enough. Up in Gael its a right rare herb. Down here in Equestria its practically a weed.”

Rolling his eyes, McKay rolled his tongue as he said, ”Really. Fascinating. Please go on.”

Smirking at Rodney, Ronon tossed him the book. “The herbalist was a bit eccentric and lived oh, a thousand years or so, but take a look at the note he made about the name.”

Curious despite himself, Rodney read the little entry: _“Meldo-sweet groes in meadows and vales high and lowe in the Realms. Good for rubbgago and gout in olde men of ill use, but it nare is found in North. Long ago name was Dragoen’s Bane. Ole Jaime swore it so.”_

“Dragon’s Bane?” Rodney squeaked, glancing up at Ronon. “Surely that’s a myth?”

“When last did a Dragon visit the Realms, Sir Rodney?” Evan said, doodling on his sketch pad. “Maybe all that meldo-sweet in our meadows kept them away.”

Desperate enough for this quest to work, Rodney clung onto any hope offered, and clutched the little book. He snarled half-heartedly, “Well, that’s just great, but we still have no idea where to look for a Dragon.”

Several beats of silence passed before Radek mused, “Well, we could try Khandahar. Cousin of mine there said they saw a Dragon, not a week ago. Orbed me about it. Well, orbed me about Great Aunt Hya’s foot, but mentioned the Dragon. Did I not say already?”

Rodney stared at Radek, who paled under the glare. Khandahar was only one Portal trip away, to the west. Dry desert land. Supposedly rich with gold and jewels. Maybe enough to entice a few Dragons. Rodney smiled. Maybe the circus would turn out to be a real quest afterall.

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

The Khandahar rumours were confirmed by a woodsman they met near the Way Point. As a small desert town whose main product was sheep, Khandahar traded a lot with villages with a ready supply of wood. In return, they traded good lamb meat, spices and salt. The woodsman had nodded and shrugged, confirming only that he had heard the same story about a dragon attacking the flocks.

And fortunately, favour continued to shine on them. The meadow that the tall Way Point stood in was filled with meldo-sweet. While Snail, Evan’s Elk and the Tortoise assisted in harvesting the plant, everyone else with two hands sat down to weave, wrap or tie the plant onto the net and ropes. Carson, Rodney and Radek were using Mechanicals Two, Three and Four. One had died a nasty death a few days ago, exploding while trying to think beyond the last command.

As Mechanicals with human ‘operators’, Rodney’s devices worked perfectly. The majority of their moving parts and strength came from cogs, wheels, pumps and pistons. Powered by steam, lightning and absorbed sunrays, the mechanicals relied on a combination of heat and water sigils, contained lightning in a bottle and battle magic symbols for their internal power. Rodney would have preferred them to be entirely self powered without any magic. But it was not to be. Or rather he hadn’t found a way yet.

Rodney also wanted true Automatons, like the Asuran Iron Soldiers. Mechanicals who did not need a human operator to function. So far every test to turn his machines into true golems had resulted in disaster, especially with Number One.  For the task at hand though, Rodney was confident that between Radek, Carson and himself, they would be able to direct the Mechanicals. Right now, the three machines were making quick work of the net, the finely detailed work well within their capabilities.

The rough plan they had hatched relied heavily on the meldo-sweet actually being Dragon’s Bane. If it wasn’t, Plan B was to beat a hasty retreat, leaving Ronon behind as a snack for the Dragon. Or that was the plan in Rodney’s head.

“I have a question, Rodney.”

Carson didn’t look up from his task to ask the question, he just barrelled on. “This rope and net are all well and good. But what if the dragon just, you know, breathes fire at us and burns the rope. What then?”

Rodney paused, and number Four did as well. He stared at Carson with huge eyes and stammered, “How the hell am I supposed to know? We just have to shoot the thing first before it can flame us!”

Teyla and Evan shared a knowing look, and Radek looked sick. “I think I’ll wait here, perhaps,” the traitors Zech muttered. Squeezing the thing rope in his hands like it was a neck to throttle, McKay snarled, “I didn’t ask you to come!”

Ronon, who was ‘researching’ and not meldo-sweet wrapping mused to himself, nose in a book, “Maybe we should burn the meldo-sweet before the Dragon burns us?”

The collective heads of the group turned towards him, including the Mechanicals. “Say that again, oh wise one,” Rodney growled.

“Legend has it that Dragon’s Bane in any form is effective against dragons. I read an account were a farmer saved his herd by burning his meadows. The smoke of the meldo-sweet burning drove the dragon away.” Ronon didn’t look up either, and turned a page, engrossed in what he was reading.

“Legend? Great, so we’re trusting our lives on your recollection of a tall tale some goat herder told to explain why the fields were on fire!”

Carson thought looked constipated, which meant he was thinking. “Perhaps a _pending_ pot would be the answer. Construct one around a burning meldo-sweet plant and then ... “

“Have the Mechanicals throw them at the Dragon!” Radek concluded, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“We are not throwing clay pots at a Dragon!”

As usual, everyone ignored Rodney and soon Carson and Radek stopped making ropes and started laying pots.

In all too soon a time, the circus was ready to depart. Rodney though was feeling decidedly anxious. “Ok, ok, let me understand this new and improved plan. We find the dragon’s cave. Throw in some pots, hope this meldo-thing works.”

“At least this way, we’ll know right up front if the meldo-sweet is Dragon’s Bane.”

Rodney ignored Sir Evan.

“We are then going to distract the dragon enough with pots and arrows until I can shoot the net from my cannon and capture it.”

Everyone nodded.

Rodney snarled. “We are going to die.”

 

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

 

An odd rattling sound drew Shep from restless slumber. The comforting darkness of the cave blanketed him, the rocks cool and soothing, the blistering heat of the desert outside completely absent.

The rattling continued, something like uniform, forced steps accompanied by a more familiar sound – a horse.

Crap.

The noises stopped, and Shep lay perfectly still, aware that from outside he was invisible in the dark.

“Dragon! Foul beast of the ... fiery pits of ... Fiery Pits! I challenge you! Come forth and do Battle!”

Shep sighed and buried his nose under his wing. Great, an idiotic fool of a knight out to make a name for himself. Or worse, trying to impress a girl. Shep was not budging, no way, no how.

The fool outside waited about five minutes before bellowing, “Hey! You! Get out here and face me! Or are you a coward? A yellow livered chicken! With scales.” Shep snorted to himself, and twitched a little with laughter. The movement pulled on the open wound on his left hind leg, and he winced, stilling. He wasn’t going anyway today, not if he could help it.

In the silence of his non-appearance, Shep hoped the uppity Knight outside would take the hint and leave, or figure that no one was home. In retrospect, he should have stayed hidden until the moon set before going hunting a few nights ago. Those sharp eyed sheep herders must have seen his kill and since this was the only cave in the area big enough for a dragon ... it was a matter of deduction. But he needed food to heal, and time. And lots of rest.

A murmur of voices outside was abruptly followed by something small and round being tossed into the cave. It landed with a loud crack and instantly grey smoke billowed out of the ball. Snorting, and growling, Shep scrambled back, away from the fumes. Dragon’s Bane. Burning Dragon’s Bane. The biggest, most important reason not to fly so far south – Dragon’s Bane.

The vicious fumes were stinging his eyes and already irritating his breathing, lungs wheezing, head thick with the smoke. There was no rear entrance in the cave, so Shep had no choice but to head towards the trap waiting for him outside, but he had to escape the smoke, now, before it overcame him.

The sun was bright, but his eyes adjusted quickly and he ducked the wave of arrows heading towards him, most bouncing off his scales, one or two pricking his skin. Out of flame range, a small group of human fighers, Knights mostly, stood. Three or four were archers, shooting at him. But Shep’s immediate problem, or threat, were the three mechanical warriors closing in on him.

Clunking and hissing, they were much larger than a knight, and as they closed, all three threw clay pots at him. Shep lowered his head and opened his jaws, calling forth a torrent of flame. As the fire dissipated and the air cleared, one of the mechanicals was glowing red, and falling apart, hot pieces of metal pinging off. The other two had spilt up and were running at him. Alas, the clay pots thrown before still landed and several more quickly followed, the mechanical’s throwing swift and accurate. Grey noxious smoke rose in a wave of miasma. More burning Dragon’s Bane. Shep turned, trying to keep out of the smoke. But his eyes were stinging and the extra lids for flying in fierce winds  were obscuring his vision as his instinct to protect his eyes kicked in. He could barely see anything.

Desperately Shep roared and flamed in a wide arc, hoping to catch the mechanicals in the blaze. The crash of more pots were the only indication of his failure. Surrounded by smoke and wheezing madly, his lungs filling with smoke he could not absorb, Shep started flapping his wings before he even thought the next steps through. Escape through flight was his only option, but in order to gain enough altitude quickly to get away, he’d have to leap up. The moment he pushed down on his injured leg, he roared in pain, the leg almost collapsing under the strain. But by beating his wings furiously, both to the scatter the smoke and gain air, Shep ignored the fire of pain and leapt forward and up.

It was probably the most ungainly and uncoordinated lift off he’d ever made, but elegance was far from his thoughts. Through the opening columns of smoke, the mechanicals still steadily threw pots at him, and Shep glimpsed a short Knight running towards some sort of contraption. From above it was impossible to tell if this Knight was the source of his current pain, but Shep figured even if not, pay back was due. Good rear leg outstretched, claws curled, Shep dived and snatched the Knight up, mid step. The mindless shriek of terror that rent the air was music to his ears.

Already the clearer air was helping, the world less of a blur, but as Shep gained height, he could still feel the debilitating effects of the Dragon’s Bane, choking his lungs, making each muscle pull and strain to do what came so naturally. The little bastard in his claws was clinging tightly and wailing non-stop.  He was both screaming and shouting at his colleagues below, probably a litany of pleas for rescue.

Brain a bit fuddled, worried about the burning pain in his leg and the shake in his wings, Shep banked left, when he should have gone right, and headed back towards the cave and his attackers. Through the gloom of stinging eyes, smoke and gathering darkness at the edges of his vision, Shep had a split second glimpse of something dark and fast heading towards him. Belatedly he heard the ‘snap’ and ‘thunk’ of the contraption and then the net hit him.

The force was not nearly enough to knock him out of the air, and he dropped a little in belated reflex, but one second it struck, and in the next wing beat, his wings were snarled, and tangled in the net. The fight to fly was shatteringly brief, and Shep sluggishly turned in the air, trying to bite the ropes of the net. Already falling and he was hardly at any real height, Shep caught one rope in his mouth, and instantly tasted more Dragon’s Bane.

Shep had fallen further before. Mating flights reached heights most dragons struggled to maintain. Shep loved pushing those limits, looking for the stars on a cloudy day. This fall was hardly in the same category, but the rapidly approaching ground would hurt just the same.

Instinctively Shep twisted in the air, trying to curl his wings, turning so that his back and the iron hard spines and spikes would take the brunt of the fall. The stupid little knight was still screaming – must have a serious pair of lungs, and Shep gently curled his claws around the knight, and managed to twist one wing into place, covering the claw.

Like a starving Grovaund Bear, the earth rushed up to meet him and Shep relaxed, tail whipping in the air, fragile cargo protected as best as possible. His last thought before he crashed into the unforgiving earth was that ....

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

 

Rodney woke up. This was instantly far more than he had ever expected. And short of finding the Soul Reaper leaning over him to take his soul to the Afterlife, Rodney was checking that up to a miracle. Miracle two, he didn’t hurt – wasn’t impaled, bleeding or broken.

“Rodney!”

Teyla, not the Soul Reaper, appeared above him, her wide expressive face full of suppressed despair and desperate hope. “Rodney.” She smiled, and McKay smiled back, her relief so transparent even though there was a net and length of black wing between them.

Rodney’s smile faded and he snarled, “I am going to kill him! He shot, he actually shot me!”

“Shot the Dragon, not you,” Ronon’s rumble preceded his smug face, long hair dangling down through the net. Rodney moved, wanting to wave a fist or something, and downgraded unhurt to ‘ouch’ but snarled anyway, “I was in the air! You shot me too!”

Ronon’s grin was unrepentant. “You’re alive,” he said, as if that made everything alright.

The steam hiss of one of the Mechanicals interrupted the moment and Carson and his Mechanical swung into view. “Great Galloping Gallants, Rodney. You’re alive. You moron!”

Rodney added Carson to his shit list.

Getting him out of the net and claw was a hell of a lot easier said than done. The Dragon was unconscious, but alive as confirmed by Radek, who hid behind his Mechanical while he checked. While Evan and Ronon helped Rodney up and out of the net, trying not to cut himself on the razor sharp claws, Teyla directed Carson and Radek in restraining the dragon.

By the time Rodney had his feet on good ole mother Earth, which he fully planned on never leaving again, Teyla and her dragon wrapping team were almost done.

The net had hit the Dragon’s wings more than anything its body, and now that Rodney was out, the two remaining Mechanicals were slowly turning the dragon, straightening out the wings as best they could beneath the net. Rear legs were good and caught in the net. But its forelegs were now neatly tied together and there was a thick muzzle of ropes around those fearsome jaws.

“Better tie its tail to the net or something,” Evan called out from his perch on the dragon’s back, looking like a boy sitting on a giant horse. The dragon was massive. Its head alone was six foot plus, the rest of it stretching out in full length another thirty, forty feet. Curled up now it was hard to believe the impressive wingspan it had, but McKay was intimately familiar with how big those wings were. Rodney had felt like a mouse in its claws and as those terrifying recent memories assailed him, McKay felt a little faint. Terror aside though, as Rodney looked at his prize, he couldn’t but help admire the sleek lethal beauty of the beast.

Glistening black scales than shone green and blue in the sun. Sleek, refined head topped with a collection of spikes. Pearl white claws and teeth that shone with opalescent beauty in the sunlight. And green, green eyes. That heart stopping instant when it had exploded out of the cave, a roar of flame, a giant night born terror that filled you with such awe and fear, played over and over in his brain. Piercing green eyes that burned through your soul, promising death and destruction.

Now it was curled up like a cat, netted and caught. It looked both smaller and bigger.

As everyone finished, and stepped back, Evan leaping off the dragon, Rodney expected to feel a swell of pride, joy even at a job well done. A job no one had expected them, him, to succeed in. Instead though, as he gazed upon the trussed up Dragon, powerful magnificence restrained by tight ropes, a wave of sadness brushed his mind. Teyla joined him, and she seemed to share a similar feeling of bittersweet victory.

“Well, Rodney. You succeeded.”

“Yes. I did. Wish it felt better.”

“Indeed.”

Rodney wondered if he would feel the same if the Dragon had not so deliberately saved his life. It could have dropped him, flamed him, heck, even eaten him in one fell swoop, but instead, it cradled him to its chest, like his life was precious.

Carson brought his Mechanical to a stop nearby, Radek doing the same. Ronon and Sir Evan joined them and together the victorious Dragon Hunters stood and took it all in.

Sir Evan ruined the moment by pulling out his sketch pad to no doubt capture the scene for the Court. Ronon followed suit, drawing out a note book from his voluminous robes, probably to make notes on the success of the meldo-sweet. Rodney drew one of Teyla’s bantos robes and raised it to strike Ronon, suddenly furious. “You shot...”

Teyla swiftly retrieved the rod, whirling Rodney around in the process. Ronon, the smug bastard, didn’t even move minutely out of the way. Carson sighed and said, “Well, lad. We’ve got your dragon. And we best be heading back. Did you have any idea about getting this great beast home?”

Rodney paused, brain misfiring. It was as sure a sign as any that not even he had truly believed they’d get to this point – one captured Dragon. How to get it home indeed? Radek snorted and ruffled his fly away hair.

“Well, I have proposal. If Carson is up to opening a portal without a Way Point, I’ll construct a weightless platform. The mechanicals should then be able to drag the dragon on it, yes?”

From behind them, Sir Evan grumbled, “I thought Dragon’s were immune to magic. Hence all the panic and running around like headless chickens.”

Happily back on familiar ground – fixing a problem, Rodney guffawed, “They are immune to magic directed at them. But Radek is right – put it on a weightless platform and it’ll weigh nothing at all. Likewise it will go through a portal.”

“Or not, and we’ll only be back in Atlantis in time to greet the Asurans,” Ronon said.

“I’m still pissed at you, so shut up!”

Teyla nodded, and clapped her hands. “Alright then. Let’s get moving. The sooner we are back in Atlantis, the sooner we can persuade Princess Samantha to use Rodney’s designs.”

There were nods all around and Rodney hurried to get Aggy and Snail ready. Snail would do most of the work, because even though the platform would make moving the Dragon easier, it would not in fact be weightless.

Pausing once again to view his prize and try and capture some sense of triumph, Rodney ran a thoughtful eye over the Dragon. It was a worthy prize indeed. Belatedly he realised the Dragon was awake and watching him back, one green eye focused on him. It looked hurt, wounded, and the ropes on its muzzle emphasised its helpless position. Rodney turned away, consumed with guilt.

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

Any other day, Shep would be intrigued about the prospect of going through a Portal. Dragons didn’t need portals, and it was obvious why. With wings and the magic of flight, who needed a glowy blue portal. In any event, most mages would run from a Dragon asking to ‘try that portal’ thing. So yes, any other day.

But not today.

Today the burn of the Dragon’s Bane was driving any momentary pleasure of an unusual experience into the distance recourses of his mind. The net and ropes were covered in the plant, and Shep was concentrating on breathing, just breathing in and out. The ropes on his jaws were the worst, so close to his nostrils and tongue, the scent of the plant enough to set fire to his nerves. The world was an indistinct blur, colours bleeding into each other.

The humans, six of them, less than he’d thought, appeared and disappeared like smoke. Hands touching him one moment, gone the next. Voices in his ears, so close to comprehension, and then garbled and broken. Shep desperately wanted to cough, to expunge the smoke from his lungs. His body was refusing to absorb the smoke, unlike it did with other types of fumes and smoke. Instead, Shep could feel it sitting in his lungs, restricting the amount of air he inhaled. Dragon’s were big creatures, they needed very iota of air their lungs could absorb, especially in flight. Every dragon knew this. Knew exactly why Dragon’s Bane was so deadly.

The lack of oxygen would slowly poison him, his extremities starving and dying first, everything slowing down, stagnating without the required volume of fresh oxygen. Expelling dragon’s bane was painful but possible. Its touch burned, but could be endured. Just as long as it didn’t get into the blood stream and choke the oxygen in the blood itself, a dragon could survive being exposed to the foul noxious plant.

Shep couldn’t even breathe deep enough to whimper. The ropes were tight, too tight, and burned so that it felt like his scales were on fire, the nerves alight with agony. His second and third hearts were already slowly down too much, the triple beat that was supposed to keep a steady rhythm running, faltering.

“Ok, ready. Pull.”

Inexorably something pulled on the ropes around his feet and Shep moved forward, the soft dust and sand beneath him resisting, but then releasing him without much of a struggle. The strain on his legs was sharp, biting, as the rope cut into his scales, which were tender and raw from the Bane.  The wound on his rear leg flared anew, a banked fire glowing sharp yellow and white with pain. Opening a baleful eye, Shep watched the Mechanicals work, a strange giant snail steaming as it pulled him towards a flat platform

As they slid him onto the platform, the dull, numbing sensation of magic was initially soothing against the fever that burned within his scales. Cold, impersonal hands moved his neck and legs into place. The absence of movement brought a resurgence of Bane induced pain, and Shep closed his eyes, willing his lungs to expand, the burn to disappear. The numbness of the magic faded in the surge of heat, as his body fought the poison in vain.

Shep stirred as he heard soft footsteps, the muted sound of metal on metal coming close to him. A knight. Maybe come to end his misery. Tiny, delicate hands pressed themselves onto the soft skin between his eye and the nearest rope, the long line of his snout buried beneath the hemp. Opening his eye just a slit, the world was reduced to thin piece of blue sky and the shadowy silhouette of the human. Shep huffed is dismay, recognising the armour. A Knight of Athos.

“I think we are hurting him, Rodney.”

“Teyla! Are you insane! Get away from it.”

‘Teyla’ leant closer to Shep, unmindful or uncaring of the apparent danger, and ran her hand over his face, tracking the sluggish movement of his eye. Shep fought the urge to whine, plead, but he couldn’t stop the dry keen rising from his throat, the need for air and relief overwhelming his pride. Much heavier footsteps heralded the arrival of another of his captors, a man – not a Knight. Scholar maybe.

Larger, rougher hands ran over his face tracing the same lines as the Knight, then down his neck. The man disappeared from sight, but Shep could feel him pressed against his chest, listening perhaps. The Knight remained at his head, her hands trying to soothe away the pain and hurt. It wasn’t working, no matter how wonderful it might have felt, had it been on a different day.

“It seems to be struggling to breathe.” The Scholar appeared inside Shep’s eyeline, his face creased with worry.

“What? Now you’re an expert dragon handler? Come on!” a distant, unseen, but familiar voice squeaked.

“Hush, Rodney. What do you think, Ronon?”

Ronon shrugged, “Perhaps it was injured in the fall.”

“Or the meldo-sweet still affects him. It’s called Dragon’s Bane for a reason,” Teyla mused, and Shep just wished they’d make a decision. Kill him or leave him to die slowly. He tried to ‘will’ some sense into the pair, pour as much emotion out of one eye as possible. Dragons weren’t able to cry, so it was a little hard to garner some sympathy, especially with the pounding ache inside him.

 “We can be in Atlantis in a couple of hours, perhaps it can wait till then.”Ronon did not seem certain of his own words and Teyla certainly did not. Her frown was deep, and she had not stopped touching him. “I...”

“Come on! We have to go. Before nightfall!”

Teyla whipped her head around, and yelled at the unseen Rodney. “Do you want him to die, Sir Rodney McKay? A prisoner in your care?”

The grumbling was indistinct, but Sir Rodney McKay shut up.

Shep had run out of time though. The desperate urge, need, to expel the Dragon’s Bane could no longer be denied, even if it meant choking on his own vomit. Abruptly, he thrashed, pulling on the ropes the Mechanicals still held, the keen in his throat rising to a painful whine. Shep strained to open his jaws, to break free, just so he could damn well breathe. The ropes twanged in protest but held, the ones around his jaws unmoving. His throat convulsed, the rising bile choking him no matter what Shep tried.

“Shit, shit, shit! What did you do?” Invisible Rodney wailed.

The glint of an open blade, bright and fierce in the sun flashed and Shep prayed it was going to end his life, because he couldn’t die like this. The blade fell, and rather than bite into his skin, it severed the ropes on his snout. As they fell away, instantly, urgently Shep twisted forward, mouth open and vomited out the foul mess.

Most of the Bane had turned to sludge inside his lungs and it came out fairly easily as he coughed and gagged. The residual smoke though was harder to expunge and Shep hacked and choked for a good long while trying to get it all out. More than just the Bane was hurled up, the movement in his lungs triggering his stomachs and soon the remains of the five sheep joined the mess in the dirt.

After far too long, the urge passed, his lungs finally clear and Shep collapsed back onto the platform, utterly spent. He felt more drained than after a long hard battle, hell, even after a good mating. The stench of the vomit rose in a waft of desert air, and Shep wrinkled his snout in distaste. “That’s disgusting. Sheesh!”

Rodney McKay, Shep decided was a whiny little coward. And just as soon as he had breath, he was going to tell him that. Well, after also having something to drink to get the taste of Bane out of his mouth. “Better?”

Knight Teyla was leaning over him, hands once again on his face, unperturbed by the nearness of his teeth. “Yes, thank you.”

His voice was rough from smoke and a raw throat, the rumble from his chest drawing everyone elses’ attention. There was another squeak from McKay, and Ronon moved closer, strangely vigilant for a scholar. In the silence of the desert late afternoon, Sir Teyla met his gaze, eye to eye. “My people have stories of the honour of Dragons. Give me your word, Dragon and I will give you mine.”

Shep blinked. Continuing to fight was beyond him at this point, the net and ropes of Bane still sapping his strength, not to mention the lingering malaise within his chest. And the old injury. Sighing, Shep licked his lips, grimacing at the aftertaste, pink tongue darting over pearl. “I behave, you don’t muzzle me.”

“Yes,” Teyla nodded. “Our cause is urgent and your presence vital. I am certain we can negotiate later on your release.”

Shep wanted to add, ‘And my retribution’ but felt it was not the best time to be threatening anyone, let alone an Athosian Knight.

“Agreed.”

She looked at him with the seriousness only an Athosian could summon. “On your honour. You will not try to escape until we reach Atlantis.”

Shep nodded, “On your honour. You will not muzzle me, or try to kill me.”

Teyla nodded. “Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

Content, Teyla turned to her comrades and said, “You can open the Portal now, Carson.”

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

Rodney rode at the head of their caravan, eyes front, a half smile on his lips. The shiny blue spires of Atlantis rose on the horizon, a beacon calling them home. News of their arrival preceded them, and for once Rodney was returning home in pride. Not potential disgrace, not pending disapproval.

In his heart of hearts, Rodney had not expected to return at all. If the Mechanicals had failed to defeat the dragon, Rodney would have slunk off to Tolan, or Asgard, someother realm where forward thinking was appreciated. If it had not been for Ronon and his obscure books and knowledge of a ‘mythical’ plant, Rodney would have failed. His unlikely friendship with Teyla, and by default, her friends, had once again saved him.

The journey back through the Portal had been slow, the Mechanicals sure and steady in towing the Dragon, who true to his word had remained silent and still throughout. Everyone knew Dragons could speak. Every child in the world did. Nonetheless McKay had been utterly floored to hear the deep rumble of words from his ‘prize’. Not a mindless beast. A thinking, reasoning, feeling being.

Yet this was necessary, vital as Teyla said. Atlantis’s safety rested on this – proving he was right, that his designs worked. Oberon would attack soon, Atlantis did not have much time.

As their party topped the last hill before the valley of Atlantis, an honour guard met them. Gold spears glinted in the setting sun, the Royal Horseguard fanning out and escorting them down the long winding silver road, giving the Dragon and Mechanicals a wide berth.

Teyla was riding close to the dragon, her tiger twitching and unnerved by the massive predator. Ronon and Evan joined Rodney at the front, their smiles broad and pleased. “Gotta say, McKay. Did not expect to be coming back like this.”

Rodney snorted and shot Evan a glare. “This fixes my problems, Evan. Not yours. You still have Chamberlain Woolsey to deal with. That portrait is uncanningly accurate.”

Ronon laughed as Evan coloured. Rodney smiled. It felt good to be coming home – with hope.

Princess Samantha met them at the main Gate of Stars, its towering doors dwarfing everyone but the Dragon. She looked resplendent in her gold matt armour, short blonde hair on fire in the setting sun. “Sir Rodney McKay. Well met. Welcome home. The Queen awaits.”

Puffing out his chest, sitting straighter on Aggy, uncaring that his armour was stained and dirty, Rodney kneed his horse forward and entered the city, a hero.

Curious crowds lined the streets, mostly silent. But as the massive Mechanicals strode past, Snail in the lead, towing the Dragon, a murmur of amazement echoed through the city. Sam led the growing parade towards the Star Palace, home of the Queen. The sky was painted in violent reds and purples, a swath of colour touching the city, bathing it in a glorious glow.

And its Queen stood waiting for them, as tall and as proud as her city.

Rodney dismounted with a clatter that his friends echoed as they joined him in a long bow to Queen Elizabeth. Looking up, Rodney was half afraid to find the usual disappointment on her face. But today, Elizabeth the Just was smiling.

“Well, Sir Rodney. I am impressed. You set out yesterday to capture a dragon and you have done so. Many within Atlantis would not have believed it.”

Rodney bowed low, again, for once lost for words.

“Sir Teyla, Sir Evan.”

At the Queen’s command, the Knights rose from their knees. Teyla’s voice was loud and clear in the palace courtyard. “We confirm and bear witness that Sir Rodney’s Mechanicals played a critical role in the capture.”

Elizabeth smiled and motioned for her second, Princess Samantha. “Samantha, my loyal General. Please set time aside to review these mechanical’s as agreed.”

The Princess nodded, short, sharp, clearly unhappy, but Rodney didn’t care. He was vindicated, cleared, king of the world. The Princess would have to spend time with him and his Mechanicals would be massed produced.

Life did not get much better than this.

So, in true McKay luck, things went pear shaped almost immediately.

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

 

Shep was exhausted. Well and truly exhausted. The Bane had steadily sapped his strength over the long trip. Going through the Portal had been interesting, its icy bite and rapid passage quite the rush. But his amazement and enjoyment had been instantly tempered by his situation. He had no idea what the Atlanteans intended with him. Clearly they needed a dragon, for something. But what would it mean for him – personally, he had no idea.

Sir Teyla had ridden close to him the whole way, clearly wishing to talk. But Shep was not interested in making nice with his captors. The pace was slow and he often dozed off, lulled by the late sunshine and weariness eating into his bones.

Not even the sight of Atlantis, rising like the Wingsong Mountains in the distance stirred more than passing interest. His breathing was suppressed again, or becoming so, the continued close proximity of Bane steadily poisoning him. Shep felt Teyla’s worried gaze, but couldn’t even find the strength to milk her sympathy. So fortunately, Shep dozed through the spectacle of being paraded through the streets, the gawking crowds lost to nightmarish dreams of thick ropes choking him.

The clear sunshine of the sunset in the massive palace courtyard woke Shep. Through slitted eyes he watched the Little Cowardly Knight kneel to receive recognition for capturing him. Had he the strength, Shep would have snorted in derision.

As the human queen spoke, a familiar presence stirred Shep into greater awareness. Realising that it was not the sun, but this presence that had woken him initially, Shep cautiously scanned the skies, a curious, desperate hope blooming in his chest.

The gathered crowd was just beginning to cheer, a riotous noise of praise when a mighty dragon bugle spilt the air. Lifting his head, Shep answered the bugle with one of his own, not nearly as loud, but still cutting through the human noise. Instantly, a dark shadow blocked out the sun, and dropped like a rock towards the courtyard.

The crowd scattered, screaming, while the collected Knights and Royal guard scrambled for their weapons.

Cam landed with an unnecessarily massive clatter, knocking over statues with his tail, flattening one of the mechanicals, and conveniently blocking Shep, guarding him. Cam let out another ear splitting bugle, one that rattled the windows on the towers around the courtyard.

Shep couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. Shit, he knew how to make an entrance. Cam glittered in the sunset, his gold bronze skin glowing with an inner light.

In the stunned silence of his arrival, and before the humans could gather themselves, Cam roared at the queen, “I am Catchell-meron, Cairn of the Great Notha Forest. I come to lay petition before Queen Elizabeth the Just of Atlantis.”

To her credit, the queen stepped out from behind her guard, who all bristled at the motion. She straightened her crown and replied, loudly, “Catchell-meron, I will hear your petition.”

Cam roared again, this time letting out a little flame. “I speak for Jhepard-shon, Scion the Midnight Clan, who you have unfairly imprisoned and tortured. I demand his release, instantly!”

There was a murmur at the word torture, and the queen shot Rodney a look, but otherwise remained impassive. “By Jhepard-shon I assume you mean the black dragon my Knights caught terrorising our villages.”

Shep froze, neck snaking out to get a better look at the Queen. He was not the only one. Ronon, and the others in Rodney’s party were also staring at her. Since when was Khandahar a liege village of Equestria? Cam bellowed his disapproval. But it was then that Shep noticed who was missing in the gathered Knights. Or rather, who was sneaking towards him, under cover of the scattered statues. Sir Teyla.

He opened his mouth to warn Cam, but she raised a finger to her lips, asking for silence. Surprising himself, Shep obeyed, stilling his warning.

Cam roared, “Terrorising? Lies. Jhepard-shon was attacked, ambushed!”

Using Cam’s bulk, Teyla quickly slipped unseen onto the platform, her knife held at the ready. Shep eyed her warily, but her smile was sad and ashamed. “If I free you, can you fly?”

Shep nodded, carefully so not to draw attention and hissed, “Why?”

Teyla shrugged even as she started cutting the ropes on his forelegs. “I fear a darker purpose behind  our quest. One I did not agree to. You do not deserve to be a prisoner for our convenience.”

Shep wasn’t going to argue with that and silently watched her cut through the ropes. A rising sense of urgency, freedom yapping at his heels filled Shep, chasing away the lethargy. There was the real problem however of flying. It was unlikely he’d take off without assistance.

The petition was not going well. Cam was getting more and more agitated, while the Queen remained unmoved, the Royal Guards edging closer and closer to the Dragons. The moment the last of the net fell away from Shep, he gave Teyla a grateful look and snarled in Ancient, “I’m free.”

Dropping all pretense, Cam growled back in the same tongue, “I gorged before landing. I have enough to spare.”

The humans were quick on the uptake, but not fast enough as Cam whirled, a bright red flame bursting out of his open mouth. The knights scattered, the guard knocking the queen to the ground for protection. Shep roared as he stood and _reached_ out to Cam’s mind, drawing on his strength. The surge of borrowed energy filled him, stiffening his legs, widening his wings. With a united  roar, Cam and Shep lept into the air, wings beating in concert, never colliding as they climbed. A volley of arrows pursued them, but struck only trailing claws and tail.

The burst of energy was already fading, and Shep felt his hold on the climb slipping. Sensing his distress, Cam closed the distance between them, fitting neatly beneath him, bolstering Shep. They left Atlantis behind, a cooling blue pearl in a dark valley as the sun disappeared and headed towards the Grey Forest. It would offer the greatest cover for them, as Shep was unable to fly for long.  

His faltering wing beats were interfering with Cam’s own flight and his friend yelled, “Just a little longer, Shep. Almost there.”

As the forest spread out below them, Shep spotted Cam’s goal. A still, mirror smooth lake in the middle of the forest. Shep dug deep, pushing his muscles and wing tendons to their limits, trying to maintain any semblance of altitude.

In the end, Cam practically glided them both in, their joined landing awkward and rushed. The icy water was an instant relief as Shep plunged in, wings furled to keep from tangling with Cam. Once in the water, a maze of ripples racing away from them, Shep floated forwards with the momentum and then started to sink.

Cam had to help him towards the shore, his legs useless no matter how much he tried to help. It felt good though, the swim, washing away the lingering burns of the Bane, soothing his scales. Once they reached the shore, Shep lay still, gasping on the wet grass. Cam lay beside him, just as breathless.

“Th.. thanks. I...”

“Only returning the favour. Shards, Shep how on earth did you manage this one? I nearly had a heart attack when I found the cave empty and signs of a fight.”

“Sorry,” Shep murmured, sleep tugging on his eyelids.

Cam snorted, “Sorry, yeah. I bet. I only tracked you through a damn portal and found you in Atlantis, of all places. Hell, Shep – only you. Only you!”

The moon had not yet risen, the stars still only pricking the sky. Shep’s last thought was this time completed, _Thank the First for Cam._

And Cam, blinking back sleep himself, felt Shep’s exhaustion and gave up on the chewing out. Shuffling closer, Cam wrapped one wing around his friend and Shep burrowed down into it, relishing the comfort, the warmth.

“Thanks,” Shep yawned but if Cam replied, Shep didn’t hear, lost to a dreamless sleep.

*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au*sga*au

Fin

 

Dragon names:

Jhepard-shon (Shep)  
Catchell-meron (Cam)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This fic ate my brain. It’s the reason all other ‘pending’ sequel fics got bumped – which includes Cat!John. For those of you who read across the fandoms I write, it’s the reason Our Devoured Minds next instalment was delayed. But mostly its Maroon 5’s fault this fic was written. Mostly.  
> In my head, Shep looks a lot like Steve Weston’s illustrations of Dragons for the Pern books. The cool looking ones  Once again, I wish I could draw so I could fanart this. Sigh.


End file.
